


Hungry

by Davys_dead



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Humdrum is dead au, M/M, and Baz’ talks in monologues of the mind, because he’s a action guy, i tried to play with formatting, idk - Freeform, min that Simon only speaks aloud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:56:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davys_dead/pseuds/Davys_dead
Summary: The humdrum is dead and the lads are still at school. Simon’s a mess and Baz is hopelessly in love





	Hungry

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y’all! I tried to play with format in this through the characters themselves. Simon only speaks, there’s no internal monologue because I wanted to show how he’s always doing before he thinks. Baz is only internal because he spends a lot of time thinking before he asks (I think almost like plotting but I that’s just the Simon snow in me.) anyway, hope y’all like it.

   It’s getting harder. I used to be able to ignore it. The scratchy feeling at the back of my throat. The smell, like the most frustrating buffet… but it’s growing. Like a menace. Like a beast. It’s taking me over. But I refuse to be a monster. I refuse to be this… thing. This thirsty thing, hungry…

   Snow’s following me again. I thought it’d stopped last year, sixth year, when he gave up. But ever since I’ve come back from Father’s foolish brigade, one that quite interestingly started right after the Humdrum was defeated before Summer break last semester, seventh year has surely been one for Snow sightings. He followed me into the bathroom today. I suppose since he doesn’t have to worry about the humdrum anymore he’s run out of things to obsess over. 

   I know he lost his magic after that fight. I mean, it’s all anyone talked about at the club over the summer. The chosen one’s a Normal. Not exactly Normal. He’s got a set of boney, feathery wings now. I pestered him about it until he told me that’s how he and Penny left the fight. With her in his arms. I’m surprised the whole world of Mages didn’t get exposed. It’s just like Snow really. To not think things through. I wish I could get my head to pull it together when it comes to him.

**Simon**

“I swear he’s up to something, Penny. With the Humdrum gone, the families have to be cooking something up.”

  
“Don’t you think they might just be enjoying the peace?”

  
“With the Mage still around? I think we need to be more worried than ever.”

  
“More worried than when a giant hole was sucking up all of the magic left? Really, Simon?”

 

“We’re weak.”

  
“Hardly. We’re in stasis. We’re taking a break. It’s been a long eighteen years Simon.”

  
“I’m going to go find where Baz is.”

  
“Crowley. What are we going to do with you?”

**Baz**

   He barges into our room like an exploding star. An exploding star but up close, so you can see right when the light gives out. None of that ‘million year’ hogwash. I wish I could tell him I see it. I see the hole he’s trying to fill. And I want to help. But that’s not what we do. We stand still. In fighting stances. Waiting for a twitch, the tick that will get it started. We’re at an armistice. And I think I’m prepared to lose.

**Simon**

“Baz.”

  
“Snow.”

  
“Doing homework?”

  
“What else is there to do?”

  
“Overthrow the Mage.”

  
“I’m not stupid enough to be caught out by that, but I know someone who would.”

  
“Ugh.”

  
“Eloquent as always.”

“Vampirical.”

  
“Nice try.”

**Baz**

   I want to tell him he’s right. I am a monster. But that’s last on the list. Before he knows for sure what I am, I want him to know so many other things. Like how his hair looks like burnished copper when he’s out on the lawn. Or how his eyes are a confusing blue. Washed out and pretty. I want to tell him how endearing it is he wears his uniform everyday and how his moles make me feel warm on the coldest night. And when I remember everything I’ve done wrong, everything I’ve failed at, looking over into his side of the room. Hearing him breathe, Watching his chest fall and rise because halfway through the night he’s ripped his covers off. It makes me feel like I could be made right again, if only I could see it all from a little bit closer.

**Simon**

“I’m getting close.”

  
“To what, driving me crazy?”

  
“He’s going to slip soon. He’s going to give in.”

  
“Well let’s hope it’s soon because one more word about Baz Pitch and I’ll spell it out of your vocabulary.”

  
“You can’t do that.”

  
“Trust me, Simon. I’ll find a way.”

**Baz**

He stomps in, snow falling off his coat as he sheds it off. I try not to stare at the way his arms move. I try not to walk up to him and help him out of the cold, wet, fabric. I tell myself not to ruffle the flakes out of his hair or to offer to go with him down to the fireplace in the common room. But it’s getting harder.

  
He’s in the bathroom now. I can hear the water running from where I’m sitting on my bed, trying to convince myself to not do something stupid. But the words are stuck in my head.

 _Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou_.

It’s a parade of torture, trumpets and all. The water cuts out and I know I’m done for because I can imagine him stepping out of it all in abstract shapes. A leg, rivulets of water making their way. Slowly. Slowly. A nose with a singular drop of water dancing at the tip of it. Precarious. Ready to fall. His back, endlessly wide and covered with skin. So much skin. I’m choking. His eyes, scrunched up, keeping leftover watery soap from his mop of a head from getting into them.

  
He opens the door. Shit.

  
**Simon**

“Do I something on my face?”

  
“What?”

  
“You're staring, Baz.”

  
“Am I?”

**Baz**

He’s walking towards me and his hair is still wet, dripping down his chest. _Shit_.

**Simon**

“You’re still doing it.”

  
“Hmm?”

  
“You’re still staring. What’s going on. Is something about to happen?”

  
“I…”

**Baz**

I’ve never been at a loss for words before. Is this what Snow feels like all the time? Like there’s cotton in your mouth that you can’t spit out? All of the times I said use your words. I get it.

**Simon**

“Baz, is something about to happen?”

**Baz**

Aleister Crowley I’m an idiot.

**Simon**

Baz Pitch is kissing me. He’s got his hands in my hair and he’s kissing me.  
It feels like his magic does when he’s practicing a spell. Hot. Searing. And it’s killing everything in the air around us but in the best way. We're alone. We're all alone in the universe and it feels amazing.

  
He tastes like magic and I almost cry because fuck I’ve missed it. It’s power. Unhindered and uncontrolled like I used to be. Like I ache to be now… and he’s giving it back to me.

 


End file.
